Alastair woke the next morning with his wife in his arms, feeling completely and utterly content. Who would have believed this day would ever come, he thought with a laugh. Alastair Finchley, married, and surprisingly happy about it. He looked down at the woman next to him. Her golden hair fanned out behind her, glistening in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Her long eyelashes rested against the soft skin of her face, as she looked entirely peaceful and at ease. She was always so animated, so fiery, that he took advantage of the opportunity to study her while she slept.

She had been more passionate than any woman he had ever met before. She approached their lovemaking as she did everything in life, with a zeal unlike any other. He hadn’t meant to make love to her last night; he had only wanted to speak to her about the evening and the man who had accompanied her. But he had found his thoughts dissolving into nothing but a wanting for her — her body, her mind, and her spirit.

She stirred, as if feeling his eyes on her, and slowly opened her lids to reveal sleepy crystal blue eyes, that warmed when they took in his face above hers.

“Alastair,” she said with a slight grin, and he nearly wanted to take her again right there, but knew it may be ill-advised to do so.

“Did you sleep well, love?” he asked, returning her smile.

“I actually slept better than I have in months,” she responded, seeming somewhat surprised. “It has been quite some time since I have fallen — and remained — asleep without any issue.”

“Well I am sure that had all to do with the strong arms of your protector around you,” he said with a grin, then ducked as she swatted him with a pillow. “I jest, Madame,” he said. “As we both are well aware, you are more than capable of caring for yourself.”

“Ah, Alastair, you do not realize how wonderful it is to hear you say such,” she said, pushing herself up to a sitting position, though he didn’t miss how she pulled the bed linen up to cover herself. She looked up at him then, her eyes slightly troubled.

“Thank you for maintaining my charade at the gambling establishment,” she said. “Why were you willing to allow me to stay when so many men would not?”

He shrugged. “You are a grown woman, Olivia. While you may be my wife, you were very clear on your view of our marriage. You have said nothing as I have left our home time and again come the evening; therefore, what right do I have to prevent your actions?”

“Were I discovered, I would have brought great shame to your family,” she said, feelings of guilt and yet exhilaration at war within her.

“Then we are fortunate that no one was the wiser,” he said. “You have much to learn about me, however, love. I am not a stranger to outrageous acts. Do you plan to do the same again?”

She hesitated. “I would like to, however, I understand if you feel I am not in a position to do so.”

He looked up at her, mischief in his eyes. “I must tell you, love, that you are currently in the best position possible — underneath me.”

She gasped then laughed as he — very gently — showed her once again the pleasures lovemaking could offer.

* * *

Alastair was true to his word and accompanied Olivia to a great many events over the next fortnight. They attended some balls and soirees as husband and wife, where they were spoken to by a great many guests, many less than subtly interested in learning more about their relationship and the scandal that had caused it. Other nights, they attended gambling houses and establishments. Sometimes Olivia dressed as Mrs. Harris, pretending she had no connection to Alastair, and the odd time dressed in her breeches and introduced as Alastair’s cousin, Oliver. They developed a system for whist and easily won money each game. Alastair’s gambling debts were slowly ebbing away, and he had his wife to thank completely. He was unsure of how he felt regarding the subject. On the one hand, he was proud of her intelligence. He appreciated the way in which she drew people to her, much in the same way he enjoyed a crowd, and her quick wit and easy laugh was contagious. On the other, he felt he wasn’t quite the man he should be, needing his wife to help.

And every time she donned a pair of those breeches … they were equally as enticing as the swell of her bosom over the low-cut neckline of her dress. He was enjoying teaching her the art of lovemaking, and she was certainly a willing student.

They had finished dining one evening, his mother having retired, and were sitting near one another on the sofa of the drawing room as Anne played the pianoforte, the lively, tinkling melody dancing around their ears.

“We have no engagements this evening. Are you leaving the house?” she asked.

“Just to White’s,” he said nonchalantly. “’Tis nothing of import. Make a few wagers, have a couple of drinks, and I should be home in due time.”

“Alastair…” she said, staring down at her hands before her brilliant blue eyes rose to meet his, her lips spreading into a smile that made him both excited and on edge at the same time. It was the look that told him she wanted something and expected him to help her to get it.

“Yes, darling?” he said.

“Would you take me to White’s?”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “To White’s? White’s Gentlemen’s Club where no woman enters — ever?”

“Yes!” she said, her eyes shining. “Would it not be a thrill? To enter undetected?”

“And if we are found out?” he asked. “If someone were to recognize you? I would be disbarred from White’s for life, as would any heirs of mine!”

Her face fell slightly as she re-considered her ask and the potential consequences. “All right then,” she finally said with a shrug. “It’s no matter.”

He eyed her. Did she mean that, or would she attempt to enter herself? He could tell she was disappointed, but he knew it was for the best. There was no way he should take her to White’s, let alone any gentlemen’s club.

“Fine, I shall take you.”

The words came out of his mouth hardly before he realized what he was saying. What was he agreeing to? Did he truly so badly wish to keep her happy that he would take her to a place like White’s?

“Oh, splendid!” she said, her face coming to life and he forgot his misgivings in the moment. “Excellent. When shall we leave?”

* * *

He had seen her dressed as a man before, but she seemed to becoming more adept at it each time. Tonight, she had taken extra care to bulk up her body, completely hide the color and length of her hair, and had darkened her eyebrows considerably. The brilliant blue of her eyes still shone, however, and her shapely legs were once again apparent through the breeches. “Though,” she told him when he remarked upon them, “I shall be sitting down the majority of the time, so no one will notice.”

He was skeptical at that. He certainly noticed.

She was near trembling with excitement in the carriage as they traveled to the club. He, who was seldom affected by any matter, could barely speak to her, his nerves were so on edge. It was one thing to have a bit of fun sneaking into a gambling establishment or a lady of the ton’s home, but White’s? It was the most prestigious club in London. They would have no qualms about turning away a duke for doing something as untoward as bringing a woman into their ranks. What had he been thinking, agreeing to this?

He resolved when — if — they managed to enter, he would simply ensure she had a quick look at the place, and then he would escort her out as quickly as he could manage.

“Olivia,” he said, taking her hands in his so that she would pay attention to him. “I have a few rules for you tonight.”

“You mean to set boundaries upon me?” she asked.

“You are aware of what you have asked me to do this evening?”

Her face softened. “Yes, and I do appreciate it, Alastair. What are your requests?”

He smiled, not missing her choice of words. “Should you see men you know, you will not converse with them, but rather avoid them at all costs so you are not recognized. You will keep to yourself and not make any type of scene. And you will never — ever — tell anyone of this. Not Rosalind, not Isabella — no one. Understood?”

She tilted her head to the side as she studied him for a moment, suddenly realizing just how upset he was by this plan of hers.

“Alastair, we do not have to go,” she said quietly. “I believe I didn’t quite realize just how important your membership is to you. Perhaps we should not risk it for this foolhardy idea of mine.”

“We’ve come this far,” he said with a shrug. “Why not go ahead now?”

The rest of the carriage ride was fairly silent until they neared St. James Street, and Olivia began reviewing their cover story, which Alastair realized was for her own benefit as well as his. As they walked up to the white Portland stone building, he had to resist the urge and the familiarity of taking her arm.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” the man at the door greeted Alastair. “Welcome to White’s this fine evening. Have you a guest?”

“I do,” responded Alastair. “My cousin, Oliver Harris, is visiting from Bath and shall be joining us this evening.”

“Very good, Your Grace,” the man said, allowing them entrance.

Glancing at Olivia, she seemed immediately enthralled by the club as he led her on a quick tour of the morning room, the smoking room, and finally the billiards room. “It looks very much like the rooms of a man of the nobility,” she said to him, and he nodded in return. A quick look around, he told himself, then they would be out the door and back home. He turned to ask what further she needed to see when he heard his name being called and he cringed.

“Breckenridge!” He turned to find Lord Penn and Lord Merryweather beckon him.

“Stay here,” he said to Olivia. “Merryweather knows you well enough, he will likely recognize you.”

“I shall stay in the shadows,” she promised, “and I shall not say a word.”

He looked around for an escape, but seeing no other option than leaving her on her own, which would never do, he turned and walked toward his friends, taking the seat closest to them so that Olivia would be hidden in the darkness of the corner. Alastair was grateful for the low light of the room, the wall sconces and wax candles lit at intervals, providing a comfortable feel.

“Gentlemen,” he said as he joined. “I am accompanied tonight by my cousin, who surprised us all with a visit. Mr. Oliver Harris, Lord Penn and Lord Merryweather.”

They exchanged pleasantries and called for a round of brandies before Penn began to question him.

“Breckenridge, man, how do you find marriage is keeping you these days?” he asked.

“Well, thank you,” responded Alastair cautiously.

“You never did tell us the details of the scandal leading to your wedded bliss. I should be quite intrigued to hear more of it.”

Alastair cleared his throat. “A small misunderstanding is all.”

Penn chortled. “A small misunderstanding. Surely you jest. Breckenridge, you sat here but not a few weeks prior to your blessed event telling us you wanted nothing to do with a wife for years to come. ‘Responsibility and guilt,’ I believe were the words you used, were they not?”

“Ah … I am not sure those were quite the words I used,” he said, trying to determine how best to change the subject. “I say, Penn, tell me of Tattersalls last week — how did you fare?”

As Lord Penn began rambling about his latest horse gamble, Alastair leaned back in his chair. This was not a good start to the evening. Could it get any worse?